Amberly: A Day in Jersey City
by Glyndewar
Summary: Amberly goes to Jersey City to find a lawyer to free Ariana.
1. Chapter 1

Amberly: A Day in Jersey City

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Amberly Carmichael and other Private characters were created by Kate Brian. Non-Private characters are my own creation.

Author's Note: This story is set somewhere near the end of Ambition. I chose to write about Amberly because I wanted to do a story about someone trying to get Ariana out of the mental hospital, and Amberly is the only one who has both the resources to do this and the naivete to think this would be a good idea.

It was indeed possible to be too rich, Amberly Carmichael thought to herself one cold day in late November as she waited in the outer office of Hell Hall for Headmaster Cromwell's secretary to get her the off-campus pass she'd requested. There was politely rich, like Billings president Cheyenne Martin had been before her mysterious death, and then there was obscenely rich, like Amberly was. At least at Easton Academy, a family pedigree dating back to the _Mayflower_ trumped even billions of dollars worth of new money. Amberly's fondest dream, being the first freshman girl to get into coveted Billings Hall, seemed farther away than ever.

Amberly had idolized Cheyenne Martin when she first came to Easton, but this was before she'd discovered two things. First, there was an essential coldness about Cheyenne that really bothered Amberly, who considered herself a warmhearted person. Second, and much more importantly, Cheyenne had not liked her. Not the generalized dislike she might have expected a senior to feel towards a lowly freshman, but raw, unadulterated hatred. Amberly had no idea why Cheyenne had hated her so much, but quite frankly, she'd been relieved when Cheyenne killed herself. Now the police were saying she might not have killed herself after all, she might have been murdered, just like Thomas Pearson the year before. Amberly had asked Lydia, her father's executive assistant and all-around troubleshooter, to find out about Cheyenne, but strangely enough, Lydia had never answered her.

Amberly looked around the sparsely decorated waiting room. Where was that woman with her pass? Amberly caught sight of her reflection in one of the mirrored pillars flanking the door into Headmaster Cromwell's private office. With great effort, she had straightened out her naturally wavy blond hair. She had deliberately worn less makeup than usual, and carefully selected an outfit designed to look as if she had just thrown it together from her closet: a white sweater, dark blue jeans, a gray eiderdown coat and the signature piece, an aquamarine scarf. Her handbag was dark green, which didn't clash with her outfit but also didn't look so perfect that people would accuse her behind her back of being "matchy-matchy." All in all, Amberly decided, she had done a superb job of looking like her new idol, falsely accused murderess Ariana Osgood.

Mrs. Bazzle, a round, matronly lady somewhere in her sixties, came out of Headmaster Cromwell's office holding a pink off-campus pass in her birdlike hand. Mrs. Bazzle had replaced Cara Lewis-Hanneman, the previous secretary, who had left last year under a cloud of scandal. Mrs. Bazzle beamed at Amberly. "Now where are you off to again, dear?"

Amberly had already explained this over the phone, but she sighed and told the woman again. "I'm going to the New York Public Library to do some research for Mr. Barber's ninth-grade history class."

"Ah." Mrs. Bazzle nodded. "And how are you getting there?"

"My father's driver is taking me," Amberly explained patiently. This was true, at least as far as Manhattan. After that, Amberly was taking the PATH train across the Hudson River to Jersey City, but she certainly wasn't going to tell Mrs. Bazzle that.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Bazzle exclaimed. "Your father must be so proud of you. You must be quite the genius to be in ninth grade at your age."

"What?" Amberly asked with a puzzled look. People had called Amberly Carmichael lots of things, but "genius" was rarely one of them.

"How old are you, anyway?" Mrs. Bazzle continued, squinting at Amberly through her bifocals. "Ten? Eleven?"

Amberly flushed with embarrassment. Because she was so petite and childlike in appearance, people were always mistaking Amberly for younger than her actual age, but ten was a new low.

"I'm fourteen," Amberly said frostily. She snatched the pass out of Mrs. Bazzle's hand, ignoring the secretary's scandalized expression, and stalked outside to wait for the driver.

Five minutes later, the driver pulled up in a black Lincoln Town Car. Amberly usually traveled in a limo, but she had specifically asked the driver to bring the Town Car because she knew it wouldn't stand out as much. She couldn't risk anyone else, especially adults, finding out what she was up to.

Vito, her bodyguard, was sitting in the front seat as Amberly climbed in back. Amberly greeted him politely but distantly, as she had been taught to treat everyone who worked for her father, except Lydia, of course. Still, Vito had saved her life as a child, and Amberly had never forgotten this fact. When Amberly was seven, two men had tried to kidnap her. That had been the only time Amberly had ever seen Vito's gun. It was a really big gun—at least, it had seemed really big to Amberly at that age—and it killed quickly and messily. That was all Amberly remembered about that day.

There wasn't much traffic, so Amberly put on her iPod, turned on the latest Landon Jacobs song and tuned out the world around her. When she finally emerged from her cocoon, they were already on the bustling streets of midtown Manhattan. Within minutes, the Town Car had stopped in front of Manhattan Mall.

Amberly told the driver to come back at five p.m. to pick her up in front of the mall, then she got out of the car and walked inside. Purposefully, she walked across the mall to the Burberry store on the first level. Burberry was one of her favorite brands. Even though it wasn't really why she was here, Amberly ended up buying a bottle of perfume, which she put on her father's American Express black card. From the blank expression on the cashier's face, Amberly guessed the pretty but common-looking young woman had no idea what a black card meant.

Carrying the perfume in her right hand, Amberly left the store and looked out at the street. The Town Car was gone. Good; no one was watching her. Amberly hurried back to the other side of the mall and took the elevator down to the PATH station on the lower level. She paid for her ticket with cash so there would be no record on the credit card, and looked around for her train. Amberly saw two trains, one going to Journal Square, the other to Hoboken. Ariana's last letter said the lawyer's office was three blocks from Journal Square in Jersey City, so she got on the Journal Square train.

The only other person in the car was a young Latina woman with a crying baby on her lap. Amberly thought this would be a perfect time for her iPod, but then decided against it after all. Music tended to distract her, and she might easily miss her stop. Instead, she reached into her handbag and pulled out Ariana's letters, reviewing them carefully to make sure she had each and every last letter ready to show the lawyer.

Ariana had been so happy to have someone to write back and forth to that she tended to ramble at times, making some of the letters a chore to get through even for someone as star-struck as Amberly. Still, Amberly didn't care. Ariana was her best friend. More importantly, she was Ariana's best friend, and once she got her out of the mental hospital and reinstated back at Easton, Ariana was sure to be eternally grateful. If that gratitude included getting Amberly her own room in Billings as a freshman, Amberly certainly wasn't going to complain…

A sudden wave of fear washed over Amberly. The checkbook! She fumbled around in the bottom of her bag until she felt it between her fingers and sighed with relief. Amberly wasn't used to writing checks. In fact, she'd never written a check before, which was why her checkbook was in such pristine condition. Still, this time she'd have to break down and do it. Her father's black card gave her a literally infinite line of credit, but every transaction, including cash advances, would be reported to her father's office within minutes. At least with Amberly's emergency checking account, she was the only one who got a copy of the statement, something she'd insisted on when she'd gone off to Easton. She only had a hundred thousand dollars in the account, but how much could a lawyer cost, especially one with an office in Jersey City?

Having satisfied herself that the checkbook was safe, Amberly spent most of the train ride reading over the letters, and by the time she was done the train was across the Hudson River and almost ready to stop in Journal Square. The woman and baby had gotten off at Grove Street, one stop earlier, so Amberly was alone when the train finally ground to a halt. After she left the train, Amberly rode an enormous escalator up to the top level of the Journal Square station. Her research had warned her that there could be pimps and drug dealers on every street corner in Jersey City, but the train station looked a lot like the one in Manhattan, except maybe a little older, a little dingier.

Keeping her eyes firmly fixed in front of her, Amberly walked across the crowded train station toward the main exit. This time she would do it, Amberly promised herself. She would find the Law Offices of Gerald N. DeFiore, she would pay him with her very own money, and he would get Ariana out of that horrible place. This time, Amberly Carmichael would be the hero. Pulling her aqua scarf tightly around her neck against the cold breeze, Amberly took a deep breath and stepped out onto the streets of Jersey City.


	2. Chapter 2: Coffee Carma

Chapter 2: Coffee Carma

Author's Note: Thanks to This Rhythm and Houndgirl for inspiring me to continue this story.

Like the train station, the city of Jersey City looked a little older and a little dingier than Manhattan, but this area at least wasn't a ghetto or anything. The sidewalks weren't covered in trash, there weren't (too many) people sleeping in doorways and if there really were pimps and drug dealers on every corner, they didn't look anything like the ones Amberly had seen on TV.

Amberly walked two blocks down Newark Avenue until she saw an old man sitting in front of a bodega holding a plastic Coffee Carma cup partially filled with coins and dollar bills. "Excuse me," Amberly said politely. "Is there a Coffee Carma around here?"

The man nodded. "One block that way," he said, pointing the way Amberly was heading. "Turn right down the side street by the Brennan Courthouse, you can't miss it." Amberly thought the old man talked exactly like Junior Soprano, except he mumbled some of his words, so it sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of oatmeal.

Amberly thanked the old man and gave him a dollar, enough to make him happy but not enough to make her stand out. "God bless you, miss," the man mumbled. Amberly smiled and continued walking.

A few minutes later, Amberly saw the brightly-colored Coffee Carma sign winking at her from under a blue awning. When she walked inside, there was only one other customer there. A young woman in a skirt and blouse—Anne Klein, Amberly thought—was sitting at a corner table nursing a large coffee.

A guy a couple years older than Amberly was standing behind the counter. His brown hair was just a little longer than most of the boys at Easton wore theirs. He had a small silver hoop earring in his left ear and a little tuft of brown hair clinging like a spider to the cleft of his chin. He's kind of cute, Amberly thought to herself, but the soul patch definitely has to go.

"What can I get you?" the guy asked as Amberly approached the counter.

"I'd like a small white chocolate mocha," Amberly told him. She flashed the guy a perfect smile, thankful that she had finally gotten her braces off last summer.

He smiled back at her. His teeth were really white, and shimmered like pearls under the fluorescent light. "I'm Jay. Jay Kazinski," he said as he made Amberly her coffee. "What's your name?"

"Amberly," Amberly said. She knew better than to give him her last name.

"Cool name. I don't think I've ever heard that one before."

"My father wanted to call me Amber," Amberly explained excitedly, "but my mother thought that was way too LMC, so she added the 'ly' at the end and came up with Amberly."

"LMC?" Jay inquired with a puzzled frown.

Amberly blushed. Of course, "LMC" meant "lower middle-class," but outside the cloistered walls of Easton, people didn't understand that sort of thing. "Never mind," Amberly said hastily.

"No problem," Jay said cheerfully. "That'll be four twenty."

Amberly handed him her Coffee Carma card. Jay squinted at it. "What's this?"

"A Coffee Carma card," Amberly explained as patiently as she could. She couldn't understand how you could work here and not know what a Coffee Carma card was, but Jay was too good-looking to yell at, especially when it seemed like he might like her back. "It means I can have all the free coffee I want."

Jay looked at her with a new respect in his eyes. "Wow. I just thought you were cute. I didn't know you were somebody important." Amberly smiled to herself: now she knew he liked her.

"I'm not anybody important," Amberly assured him hastily. She knew telling Jay she was a billionaire's daughter right away would either make him want her for her money or scare him off, neither of which was acceptable to Amberly. "My dad just works in sales at the corporate office, that's all."

Jay handed Amberly her coffee as a man in a business suit came in and started browsing through the bags of coffee on the shelves by the front door. "You want to sit with me while I drink this?" Amberly asked.

Jay shook his head regretfully. "I can't. It's almost lunchtime, and this place gets mobbed at lunchtime." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "Listen, they're having a rave down by the waterfront Friday night. You want to come?"

"I don't do raves," Amberly informed him. "But you can take me out to dinner if you want."

"Sounds great," Jay agreed. "Chauncey's okay?"

"Sure," Amberly said. She programmed her cell number into Jay's iPhone, then reached up to touch his soul patch. It felt softer than she expected, like the fur on her cat Gizmo's belly. "Maybe you could shave this before then?" This time, her smile was sweet and winsome.

Jay studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Sure, I can do that." He brushed his fingers across Amberly's hand, then turned to wait on the guy in the suit.

Amberly left the store with her coffee in her hand and a spring in her step. Her joy was only slightly dampened by the fact that she really didn't have anyone except Ariana to share the good news with. Getting into Billings, even freeing Ariana suddenly seemed less important than going out to dinner with Jay on Friday night. Smiling to herself, Amberly turned the corner back onto Newark Avenue and walked toward the lawyer's office.


	3. Chapter 3: The Lawyer's Office

Chapter 3: The Lawyer's Office

When Amberly entered the lawyer's office, the first person she noticed was the receptionist, an olive-skinned woman with dyed red hair typing away efficiently on a computer. Glancing around the lobby, she saw only one other person, an African American man with his hair in cornrows watching Jerry Springer on an old color TV bolted to the wall.

"Can I help you, dear?" the receptionist asked.

"Amberly Carmichael," Amberly announced, "here to see Mr. DeFiore."

The receptionist smiled and gestured toward a wooden door in the far wall. "He's expecting you, Miss Carmichael. Go ahead."

As Amberly walked through the door, the lawyer rose from behind his desk to greet her. Gerald N. DeFiore was short but wiry, with olive skin a shade lighter than his receptionist's and slightly unruly dark hair. His whole body virtually radiated a certain manic energy, and Amberly felt both excited and a little nervous just being in his presence.

"Amberly—may I call you Amberly?" Amberly nodded as she shook his hand. "I'm Jerry DeFiore. Please, call me Jerry. All my clients do."

Amberly beamed as she sat down. No adult (except Lydia, of course) who wasn't a relative had ever invited her to call them by their first name.

Jerry leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "First things first: the matter of my fee. For a case of this complexity, my initial retainer is fifty thousand dollars, and I bill at five hundred an hour. Can you pay that?"

"I can," Amberly said proudly.

"Great. Now we can discuss the actual case. I reviewed the email you sent me describing your friend Ariana's situation. It was quite…meticulous, I must say."

"Thanks," Amberly said, assuming Jerry meant it as a compliment. "I wanted to show you Ariana's letters too."

Amberly pulled out the letters and gave them to Jerry. Jerry spent the next twenty minutes reviewing them while Amberly waited in silence, not wanting to break his concentration.

"Who's Kaitlynn Nottingham?" Jerry asked at one point.

"I'm not paying for her," Amberly told him quickly. "Just Ariana." Kaitlynn was Ariana's best friend in the hospital, and Amberly wanted no competition for that slot once Ariana was released. Jerry nodded and went back to reading.

Finally, Jerry set the letters down and regarded Amberly with a grave expression on his face. "Your friend never says she's innocent."

"What do you mean?" Amberly asked.

"I mean," Jerry explained, "in your email you tell me several times that Ariana didn't really kill Thomas Pearson, but nowhere in all these letters does she ever assert her innocence."

"Does this mean you can't help her?" Amberly demanded worriedly.

Jerry smiled, a confident smile which immediately reassured Amberly. "Don't worry. Ninety percent of my clients are guilty, and I'm still able to help most of them."

Jerry leaned forward and looked directly at Amberly. "I'm only mentioning this because I get the impression that you're convinced your friend Ariana is innocent, and I just wanted to warn you that this may not be the case."

Amberly considered this for a minute, then shook her head. "I don't care if Ariana's guilty. I just want her out of there." In Amberly's mind, freeing her best friend and getting into Billings as a result far outweighed the possibility that Thomas Pearson's real killer might go free.

Jerry's face remained impassive, but Amberly imagined for a moment she saw a look of disappointment flash across his eyes. "Fair enough. Now let's get down to business."

For the next half hour, Jerry filled Amberly in on the nuts and bolts of the _habeas corpus _petition he would file to get Ariana released from the mental hospital. Once Jerry had finished telling Amberly everything she needed to know, she wrote him a check for fifty thousand, and he shook Amberly's hand as she left.

Outside in the cold afternoon air, Amberly allowed herself one small whoop of glee. Ariana would be out by New Year's Day, and Amberly would begin her second semester at Easton by being the first freshman girl ever to live in Billings Hall. Amberly smiled to herself as she walked toward the PATH station. She'd accomplished her mission and gotten a date to boot. This really was a perfect day.


	4. Chapter 4: Back to Easton

Chapter 4: Back to Easton.

Author's note: I apologize in advance for any errors in canon.

On the PATH train back to Manhattan, a woman sat down next to Amberly. Amberly's eyes widened as she recognized the woman.

"Lydia!" she screamed as she hugged her father's executive assistant and all around troubleshooter. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you," Lydia said with a wry smile. "We had to make sure you didn't get into any trouble you couldn't handle."

"Then you knew what I was doing the whole time?" Amberly gasped.

"Of course," Lydia said casually. "I think it's sweet, how hard you're trying to help your friend in the mental hospital." Lydia said nothing about Amberly's upcoming date with Jay, and Amberly didn't mention it either.

"Do you think it'll work?" Amberly asked eagerly.

"No, I don't," Lydia answered. "The evidence against Ariana is too strong. No judge is going to grant a _habeas_ petition, no matter how artfully argued, on those facts.

"But that doesn't matter," she continued. "What matters is that you tried. Your father is very proud of you, Amberly." Amberly beamed at the older woman.

As the train pulled into the 33rd Street station, Lydia handed Amberly a flash drive in a sealed plastic bag. Written on a strip of adhesive tape attached to the bad was one word: BILLINGS.

"In another ten years, you'll be your father's heir," Lydia said solemnly. "It's time you learned a few secrets about that dorm you so desperately to get into. Remember, Reed Brennan has the other copy." Lydia brushed her lips against Amberly's cheek and stepped off the train. Amberly also got off the train, but Lydia was soon lost in the crowd.

Amberly walked upstairs to the main entrance, where Vito was waiting for her in the Town Car. As they drove back to Easton, Amberly thought about Reed Brennan. She didn't like Reed very much, although she pretended she did. Amberly had given Reed a Coffee Carma card, the highest honor she could bestow on someone, and Reed had repaid her by doing exactly nothing to help Amberly get into Billings. Even after Reed became the official leader of Billings, her attitude toward Amberly remained distant at best.

Maybe I could make friends with Noelle Lange, Amberly thought as the car drove through the main gates of Easton. After all, there had been a rift between Noelle and Reed ever since the Legacy party…

"We're here, miss," Vito said politely. Amberly looked out the window and saw that the car was parked in front of Bradwell, the dorm she's been trying so hard to escape from.

Clutching the flash drive tightly in her hand, Amberly walked into her dorm. She would find out whatever secrets about the Billings girls Lydia had entrusted to her, then she would begin trying to befriend Noelle. Amberly was a Carmichael, after all, her father's daughter. Nothing would stop her now.


	5. Chapter 5: Secrets and Plans

Chapter 5: Secrets and Plans

Amberly's roommates were at dinner when she returned, so she sat down at her computer and began reading the flash drive Lydia had given her. As promised, it was a dossier of secrets and scandals on all the Billings girls.

Amberly may not have been the brightest girl in the world, but she was a quick reader, a skill which came in handy when perusing Ariana's letters. Finally, she came to the file on the late Cheyenne Martin.

Amberly always knew her father was something of a womanizer, so she wasn't quite as surprised or outraged as she might have been to learn about her father's affair with Cheyenne. Still, if this ever got out, it would be more than an embarrassment to Amberly; it also gave her father a motive to murder Cheyenne. As mad as she was at her father for doing this, there was no way Amberly was going to let him get arrested for murdering someone she didn't even like.

Lydia had told her Reed Brennan had the other copy of the Billings files. Reed was unlikely to hand them over voluntarily, so Amberly figured she'd just have to steal them. Fortunately, even the rooms in Billings didn't have locks on their doors. Amberly figured she'd sneak in one day when everyone was at class and take the files before Reed ever had a chance to learn Amberly's father's secret…

A knock on her door broke Amberly's concentration. Hastily minimizing Cheyenne's file, Amberly opened the door to reveal Noelle Lange standing there.

Amberly's eyes widened at seeing Noelle in Bradwell, of all places. With her long, flowing dark hair and imperious demeanor, Noelle looked every inch a Gothic princess. If Amberly hadn't already idolized Ariana, she probably would have picked Noelle instead.

"N-Noelle," Amberly stammered, caught completely off-guard. "I was just going to stop by and see if you needed anything later on."

Noelle smiled, and her smile looked almost predatory. "No, but I do have what you need. By this time next week, you'll be the newest Billings girl."

"Me?" Amberly gasped. "Why? How?"

"Three reasons," Noelle explained. "First, unlike that slut Reed, you don't betray your friends.

"Second, you know the secrets of Billings. Or rather, your father's assistant does, but I'm sure she'll give them to you soon, if she hasn't already.

"And finally, you tried to help Ariana. No matter what she's done, she's still like a sister to me. I really appreciate your trying to fix the mess Ariana got herself into when she killed Thomas."

"So Ariana really did do it?" Amberly asked reluctantly, afraid to hear the answer. She'd already made up her mind back in the lawyer's office that it didn't matter, but that didn't mean she wanted the truth shoved in her face, either.

Noelle nodded. "And she tried to kill Reed too, not that that would've been any great loss."

Amberly reached out and squeezed Noelle's hand, a gesture of comfort and solidarity. She had heard about Reed's makeout session with Dash McCafferty at the Legacy, so she knew exactly why Noelle was so furious at her former best friend.

Noelle squeezed back once, then stepped back into the empty hallway. "Don't tell anyone about this until Reed officially gets voted out. And make sure you act surprised when we initiate you."

Noelle waved goodbye to Amberly, then strode off down the hall toward the Bradwell commons room. Amberly closed her door and went back to her computer. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Amberly Carmichael was finally going to be a Billings girl…as a freshman, no less! Now, if only her date with Jay went well, and if only she could get Ariana out of the mental hospital, her life would be complete. Amberly smiled as she reopened Cheyenne's file. Maybe you really couldn't be too rich after all.


End file.
